


for the things you don't know

by figure8



Series: run this town [5]
Category: C-Pop, EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Choking, M/M, Organized Crime, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but like not really, for like a millisecond, this is honestly just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: Look me in the eye when you lie to me.





	for the things you don't know

**Author's Note:**

> this only makes sense if you've read by my own law. i don't know, man. i have a lot of emotions about fanxing in this au. im genuinely sorry 
> 
> title from do you by carina round

**_the hurt that the head forgets_ ** **_  
_ ** **_the heart will always remember_ **

 

yifan is closing a deal. the restaurant is one of theirs, even if the fat middle aged man sitting across yifan doesn't know it. the servers all have weapons tucked away under their nicely pressed slacks. a table away, zitao pretends to laugh at something victoria just said. he's not looking, but he's listening.

yixing is standing in the back, hand on his gun, eyes on his boss. yifan’s silver hair is slicked back today, making him look sophisticated. he's wearing a suit but no tie, white dress shirt half open, heavy chains resting on his clavicles. it's an obscene display of wealth, just like the yellow ferrari in the parking lot.

when the buyer leaves, yifan tells the rest of his men to get out, snap of a finger, but stops yixing with a hand on his wrist. _i could feel you watching me all night,_ low, his voice a little hoarse. yixing's skin burns where he's holding him.

and yixing looks away nervously, _it's my job, it's my job, i have your back, i always have your back._ and yifan takes a step, backs him into a corner, the white wall cool against yixing's back even through the soft fabric of his silk button-up. yifan's large hand grabbing him by the jaw, the contact still burning, the metal of his rings cold cold cold, yixing's heart beating too fast and too loud. they're a breath apart, now.

_look at me, look me in the eye when you lie to me._

and yixing wants, yixing wants and he cannot have.

 _kris,_ he says.

_i could have you. i could have you right here, you wouldn't say no._

_kris,_ he says again, anguished, broken. he should be afraid. the grip on his jaw tightens. the rings are going to leave marks. he should be afraid.

 _you can’t say no,_ yifan whispers. _you can't say no to me._ and yixing doesn't answer, doesn't dare to fucking _breathe,_ just waits, waits. yifan is so close, now, a knee between yixing's legs, and yixing can feel him, hard and warm against his thigh. _you can't say no to me,_ he repeats, _so i need you to tell me, fuck, yixing, i need you to tell me yes._

 _yifan,_ yixing says, and the word sets something free.

 _tell me you want me,_ yifan pants against his mouth, only breaking the kiss long enough to ask, to demand, _tell me you want this._ his hand is in yixing's hair now, grip still tight and possessive, angling yixing's face upwards.

_yifan, yifan, yifan--_

_tell me, tell me you don’t think you owe me, tell me you know you don't have to, tell me you want to anyway--_

and it's messy. lips and teeth and tongue and friction and yixing’s fingers grasping at yifan’s shirt, bringing him closer closer closer and gasping _yifan_ and moaning _yifan_ and pleading _yifan_ and closing his eyes, taking, taking. he's going to come in his pants, like a teenager, his ~~target’s~~ boss’s hand around his throat. _yifan,_ he cries, _please please please_ and yifan presses the heel of his palm lightly against yixing’s trachea, eyes dark dark dark and hungry, and yixing sees stars, tiny little white dots dancing all over the room.

 

When he wakes up, alone, in his fancy downtown apartment, he feels dirty, and not just because his sheets are sticky. Opposite him, his neatly ironed uniform is waiting, hanging from his open closet door.


End file.
